


Varric's Chest Hair

by doctorweber



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Melancholy Orlesian Tunes, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, One Shot, Smut, Truth or Dare, Varric Tethras is a Good Friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 00:59:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14321058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorweber/pseuds/doctorweber
Summary: The Kirkwall gang connect over a game of diamondback. The truth comes out.





	Varric's Chest Hair

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, I own nothing. But if I did, I would give Dragon Age 2 eight more years of development time and an eighteen billion dollar budget.

One could argue that one did not innocently play diamondback at the Hanged Man. One usually cheated at diamondback and had to be punished (a knife to the ribs) or escorted out (forcibly removed from the city limits, by way of throwing off the docks). A fortuitous wind had pushed them to the tavern after a thankless day of killing Tal Vashoth at the coast. More often than not, they camped the night out, but as it turned out, Aveline had to rush back for a guard shift the next morning, so to the city they returned. Their pockets jingled full of looted gold, gems, and other curiosities, ready to be spent and wasted. 

Garrett sipped his beer and eyed his cards. Absolutely nothing useful. He might as well have pulled out his coinpurse and handed it to Anders to save everyone the trouble. He drifted off in his own thoughts for a moments, pulled in by the lull of beer and quiet conversation. Once, Isabela had explained to Beth that “hanged man,” literally meant a drunkard, but Garrett wasn’t quite sure he believed her. Not that she would lie, it just seemed too clever for a tavern where the urinal cakes were shaped like tiny rats. Kirkwall wasn’t a clever city. Unless it was planning a revolution, then it suddenly became a Maker-damned collective mastermind. Whatever the case, they gathered ‘round to play, long overdue for a game of chance to bet the loot they had accumulated from their last few hauls, and have a few laughs in the process. Varric said that these games “strengthened the bonds of their group love” or some shit like that. But in reality, they all just liked to play diamondback and argue. 

The nighttime chill had begun to seep through the walls, and patrons clutched their cloaks a little tighter, wrapping themselves up like little Kirkwall sandwiches. Garrett’s own tits had been colder in Ferelden. Aveline and he had already shrugged their cloaks off, his haphazardly strewn over the bench. He got up to refill his beer, and practically staggered into the bar. The barkeep liked nights like these, and he was accordingly generous. Folks would come off the street, out of the cold, and spend all of their hard earned coin at the tavern. The woodsmoke from the dying fire threatened to choke, but in Garrett’s opinion, it made the beer taste better. Well, the horsepiss that the barkeep tried to pass off as beer. The clock had already struck two, and only one of the musicians was up this late, the piper, playing a melancholy Orlesian tune that Garrett knew Varric fucking detested. He often complained that Orlesian music was “too dramatic.” Bold words from a dwarf that recited romantic poetry in public. 

“Alright, you hapless fucks, the next round shan’t played for coin. It’s gonna be for secrets,” Anders said, a grin on his smug, very-much-winning face. They all groaned, throwing their cards down. “You lot already know everything about me,” Isabela said, accidently tipping her mug of beer over the table. A rush to clean up ensued. “Why can’t we play normal for once,” Aveline groaned, picking a spot of beer foam off her cuff. General laughter and mocking followed her statement. Garrett’s cleaning hand ghosted over Fenris’ arm and he noticed that Fen’s ears twitched. Ah, the dilemma. They had been dancing around each other since they had met, neither willing to make the first move. 

Fenris had been an odd addition to the group, nothing truly keeping him in Kirkwall. All the others had been foisted here by the Blight or surrounding conditions (except for Varric, of course), but Fenris had chosen Kirkwall. A strange place to choose, Garrett thought, for a former slave. He himself had been practically traumatized by the enormous and rather tacky golden statues of suffering slaves that had greeted him at the Gallows. Fenris must have gazed up at them and pressed ahead anyway. That made him braver than any Grey Warden, in Garrett’s opinion. There was no denying that Fenris was handsome, although some would have said too severe, with his high cheekbones and flint-hard green eyes. Every once in awhile, Garrett caught himself staring at him, such as right this minute. By the Maker, he was a pretty elf. Varric had already told him that he “had it bad,” whatever that meant. It was not his fault that Fenris’ soft white hair gave off its own preternatural glow, and his dark skin practically glowed in firelight. Not fair. 

And as usual this week, Anders won. Varric was still reigning champion, but his head wasn’t in the game, what with the impending deadline of the expedition. There were still so many factors unaccounted for, and Garrett had the feeling that Varric’s head was swimming with the cost of tents and the larder, rather than a game of diamondback. Bartrand was clucking around town, puff-chested and twice as tall as normal (which was still only four feet), telling everyone he knew about the haul they were about to acquire. 

Garrett knew that he couldn’t take everyone on the trip, and had half a mind to keep Bethany at home with their mother, he was scared that she would resist, but he didn’t want her going down to the deep roads, either. Aveline and Isabela had already dipped out, stating that they’d rather remain topside. Merrill said she needed to keep the Eluvian safe, so she was out. It came down to him, Varric, Fenris, and either Anders or Bethany. It would probably be Anders, if Garrett was completely honest with himself. Having a Grey Warden that specialized in healing magic on the trip would let him rest a little easier. Well, as easy as one could rest in the deep roads.

“Izzy, worst thing you’ve ever done?” Anders asked. She paused for a minute, looking almost melancholy, and then a grin slathered itself on her face. She took a long swig of her beer. “Saw your ass, darling,” she said. A riot at the table. Even Anders chuckled, looking a little feistier, and then pointed at Varric. “What’s the most embarrassing thing your parents ever caught you doing,” Anders asked. “Besides hugging Bartrand that one time?” he said, laughing into his cup. “Probably when they walked in on me and a tavern maid,” he said, nodding. Anders looked at Garrett next. “Garrett, what’s the most expensive thing you’ve ever stolen?” Ah, a tough question. “That would require Garrett to actually remember the things he’s taken,” Aveline sniffed. “I’d say Bann Ceorlic’s prize-winning racehorse,” Garrett said, clinking his mug with Varric. A pause to get beer, and the interrogation commenced. 

“Have you ever cheated during our diamondback games?” he asked Bethany. She blushed furiously. “No, I mean, well, once, just once. I didn’t cheat today!” she said, furiously embarrassed. They took the time to boo her, and Aveline flicked some of her beer in Bethany’s direction. Anders, sufficiently answered, turned to the next victim. “Merrill, who’s the sexiest person here?” he asked. Merrill gave a good look around. “You mean at the table or at the bar,” she asked. “The table,” he said, with a decisive air. “Oh, I’d say Isabela, she has very long legs.” A man at the length of the bar wolf whistled, and Anders flipped him off. “Thank you, kitten.” 

“I’m not answering your damned questions, Anders,” Aveline said preemptively. Her scowl could stop a druffalo in its tracks. “Alright, Fenris, what is currently turning you on?” Anders asked, blithely. Fenris coughed into his beer, spluttering and starting. “Pardon?” he asked, eyes flicking to and fro. Everyone stared at Fenris. The suspense was terrible. Garrett was especially interested in what Fenris had to say. “Varric’s chest hair,” he mumbled, taking a dainty sip of his beer. The table erupted in laughter. Varric looked proud, puffing up his chest. “Alright, folks, I will take my winnings, my dignity, and this new pair of boots, and bid you adieu.” They all groaned, having felt their pockets significantly lighter than when they started. Garrett had lost count of the rounds.

Anders bumped his head on the doorframe as he exited, cursing and muttering out into the darkness. The others drifted off at a leisurely pace, scattering to the wind, until it was Garrett, Varric, and Fenris quietly sipping their beer. Fenris excused himself off to the bar, and Varric motioned for Garrett to follow him to a small nook nestled by the bottom of the stairwell. It was the only place in the damn bar that was private enough to conduct any real business.

“We need to talk,” Varric said, steadying Garrett with a hand to the elbow. Garrett grunted, leaning against the banister of the stairwell, and gestured to Varric to get on with it. “You and broody need to fix whatever’s going on. Before we leave, I mean,” Varric explained, with the patience of a parent to an unruly child in a marketplace. “Nothing’s happening. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Garrett said, running his thumb over the scar on the back of his neck. “You’d better leave lying to the professionals, kid, because you’re terrible at it. Fix this,” Varric said, a little too loud. 

Elf ears were keen, and Garrett had no intention of this conversation being overheard. He grabbed Varric’s coat sleeve, pulling him close. “I don’t think you understand me. We’re just friends,” he said to Varric, teeth gritted. “Yeah, and I’m a hairless dwarf,” Varric said snarkily. There was a long, terrible pause. “Wait, yeah.” And with that, he teetered drunkenly up the stairs to his room, slamming the door a bit too hard. Garrett instinctually followed him, halfway up, before realizing that the conversation was over. Garrett leaned against the banister, hoping to fall asleep right there on the stairs, but he unfortunately remained awake. He had given up control of his faculties about an hour past. And as if to answer his wordless intention, Fenris was suddenly standing at the top of the stairs. “What was that about?” Fenris asked, and to that Garrett shrugged. As close to it as he could manage, he attempted to saunter up to the second level. “You come here often?” he asked, a big grin on his face. “I hope to,” Fenris said. Now that Fenris was flirting with him, he suddenly had no idea how to respond. 

“Aren’t you going to take me to a room?” Fenris said, wine-drunk and bold. Garrett licked his lips. “What,” he asked. “You’ve been staring all night. The least we could do is fuck,” Fenris said, casually, accusing him with his eyes. He leaned against a dusty wall. 

Garrett cocked his head, like a particularly clever Mabari pup, and shrugged. “Do you want to?” he asked Fenris. Fenris shrugged in kind. “I suppose I could stand to bear it,” he said. They made their way to a room. It had seen better days, and worse days too. 

They started shucking off their clothes with an almost professional air. It felt less like they were getting ready to fuck and more like this had been a scheduled appointment, all business. They might exchange calling cards by the time they were through. But Garrett supposed that was correct. This had been a long time coming. And now he would take a short time coming. For a moment, after they had undressed, Fenris looked perturbed. “I…” he began, sitting on the bed, and wringing his hands. “You don’t have to say anything. All you have to do is scream my name,” Garrett said. They looked at each other for the first time, it seemed the world stopped listening. Then they kissed. 

Fenris moaned, pulling back and brushing his unruly hair out of his face. He took three fingers of Garrett’s left hand into his mouth, working them up and down, a prelude, Garrett guessed, of what was to happen to his cock. Except that Fenris was loud, very loud. Gagging and groaning, which normally would have driven Garrett wild, was perhaps tempered by the fact that Varric was sitting in the room next to them, having a nightcap. 

“Try to keep quiet, we wouldn’t want to get caught, would we?” Garrett said, and the room started to swim. He was very drunk. His tongue traced the outside of Fenris’ ear, and he could feel his own cock hardening, thank the Maker. He had hoped that whiskey dick hadn’t settled in yet. A wave of inspiration crashed into him. He grabbed a fistful of Fenris’ hair, and crashed their mouths together. They fought for dominance for a long moment, lips in a dance of passion, and Garrett won. Fenris pulled away, kissing down Garrett’s neck, all the way to his cock. “I don’t think so, get up,” Garrett said, backing up a fraction of an inch. Fenris sat on his heels for a moment, before rising to the challenge.

“Turn around,” Garrett ordered, pulling Fenris up by his arms. “Back to the bed?” Fenris asked, shucking off the last piece of clothing he had kept on, his vest. “The wall,” Garrett said. He took the time to stroke his own cock, and his head was so sensitive, slick with precum, that it took all of his self-control not to come in his own hand. He trembled, hands shaking, as he guided Fenris to the wall. They were already bent over like rutting animals, and whatever foreplay had been planned would have to dig its own grave. He took hold of Fenris’ hair, yet again, and this time did not let go, until he was satisfied that Fenris would not move until he gave his orders. 

“Bend over, all the way now.” Fenris moaned wildly, thrashing under Garrett’s ministrations. “Touch me there,” he whimpered. “No, I don’t think I will,” Garrett said, and Fenris flailed under him. He slowly and excruciatingly used his knees to separate Fenris’ legs, spreading him nice and wide. Fenris was trembling with lust and excitement and a twinge of fear. Garrett traced the lyrium lines, a single fingertip from each hand, dipping down past Fenris’ buttocks and down his legs. Back up, swirling round and round on the tattoos. So much fear and pain had gone into these markings, but the result was terribly beautiful. The lyrium hummed with a faint glow, and though Garrett was not a mage, even he could feel the thickness of the magic behind his teeth and before his tongue. This was power. 

Garrett dropped to his knees behind Fenris, whose forehead was flush to the wall, eyes closed almost reverently. Garrett’s tongue slipped out of his mouth and gently rimmed Fenris’ asshole. He swirled his tongue, and was reminded of the fruit ices that a trader sold on the docks of Redcliffe, that his father would ply him with to be a good boy. 

It was as if he had lit a fire under Fenris, who started to rock with reckless abandon. “Please, please, please, I can’t, I want you to--” Fenris had started to sweat. Garrett’s hands firmly grabbed his hips to keep him in place. “What did I tell you? Be quiet.” Fenris shut his mouth, but could not control the low keening in his throat. After Garrett had his fill, he spit into the now pulsing ass, and Fenris yelped.

He clapped a hand over Fenris’ mouth, and tsked. “Who knew you’d be a chatterbox?” he asked, levelling his cock, and pushed in. The resistance felt exquisite, and Garrett, for the first time that night, was lost in the pleasure. He opened his mouth in shock. It hit him like a bolt of lightning, and he sat for a minute, drinking it in, and letting Fenris’ much smaller body accept his rock hard member. Fenris had stilled, finally filled to the brim, not wanting to move, to change the situation. Slowly Garrett began to move, inch by precious inch into Fen’s body, and it felt like his cock was clamped in a vice grip as he pushed them both into the wall. 

He started to pick up his pace, driving forward with a decisive snap of his hips. His hand had never left Fenris’ mouth, but now was covered with spit, which he smeared up and down Fenris’ face, before returning it to its rightful place guarding his mouth. And, of course, keeping Fenris from shrieking in pleasure. His other hand was kept on Fen’s hip, gripping him tightly and shaking from the exertion. He felt like jelly, like putty, except for his cock, constantly driving forward in a singular goal. They both begged for release, and for a long while the only sounds they heard were the slick shucking sound of their bodies meeting in tandem. 

Garrett’s hand moved from Fenris’ mouth to his hair again, needing to find purchase. He used his grip on the hair, white as moonlight, to balance himself as he picked up his pace, driving even faster into Fenris’ asshole. After what seemed like an hour, Fenris became impatient. “Come in me,” he said,” Fill me up, I need it.” It was as if a blinding light, hot and full of energy, wanted to be released from his body. His come sought a passage out, and the tension was unbearable. He needed to fill up Fenris full of his love, his pleasure, and he groaned with the tautness of his balls. He was so close to coming, but he wanted to extend this fucking forever. He could stay like this until oblivion, but he needed to come. His hand moved from Fenris’ hips to his balls, and he gripped them hard and started to shake. He used his index finger to stroke his taint, right behind his balls, and after he thought he could take not another minute of straining, he took his hand off his balls and circled around to his own asshole. Without any preamble, he stuck two fingers in, and that undid him. He came violently, shaking all the come out of his cock, sputtering out like a candle. After what seemed an eternity, he pulled his cock out with a pop, and examined his handiwork. There was no sight more beautiful than an ass full of his come, and he used his thumb to push the come back in as it threatened to escape. He pulled Fenris to the bed, full of his come, and set him to work cleaning up his cock with his tongue.

They laid in the bed, all sweat soaked and pleasantly heavy. “I don’t think Anders asked you a proper question. Everyone else had embarrassing things,” Fenris said, stretching out lithely, like a cat. “Well then, ask me something,” Garrett said. There was a pause. “What do you regret?” Fenris said, kissing down Garrett’s chest, nuzzling him. Garrett had the distinct feeling that he had walked into a bear trap. Fenris wanted to hear that they had made a mistake. But they had not. “Not having more chest hair,” he laughed, pulling Fenris up to him. “You will hold that against me forever, will you not?” Fenris asked, burying his face into the pillow. Garrett could hear the sigh of relief. The bed creaked.

It felt timeless, as Garrett’s breathing started to even out. He thought back to the sex, growing hard again, and made a motion to pull Fenris on top of him. There was a knock at the door. “Are you going to walk me home, brother? Or are you and Fenris going to be at it all night?” came Bethany’s voice from the crack in the door. “Son of a bitch,” Garrett groaned, and for the first time in a long time, Fenris laughed. As Garrett got up, Fenris caught his arm. “So when do I get my pleasure?” he asked, attempting to pull Garrett back to the bed.

“Who said you get to come?”


End file.
